


The bottom of the deep, blue

by Yemoja



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yemoja/pseuds/Yemoja
Summary: You live in the same apartment as Arthur Fleck - and your small act of kindness ignites something within him. . .
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Fleck/Reader, Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 144





	1. Prologue Part 1: And up, he rises

There was a wound in Gotham. It festered with disease and infection. The maggots of their society writhed here - caked with crime and poverty. _ But they fed. _

Little to none was to provide for the falling city, fundings guillotined to the bare minimum. 

And there was Arthur Fleck, nuzzled in this decaying crook of Gotham. A bag of medications crumbled tightly in his fist, his frame staggered towards the dingy building. No - he didn’t call it home. He may have lived here, but it wasn’t home. Not on this Earth - not a place any living could reach, was where home was.

A place where it didn’t feel as though with every step, the weight of the world only added on. Added on and on and on and on - and maybe someday, it’d crush him. Or at least, he’d hope it would. 

But this weight didn’t snap the already worn wiring that held the ragged elevator in place, no - it made him question the weight itself. Was it really real? No - was it - _ really _ real? His eyes glinted at the barely flickering light above. There was an uncomfortable itching that crawled up his throat from deep within the pits of his being. It scraped and clawed, up and up it went - until a hoarse chortle escaped his narrowly parted lips.  
  
_ God no, god no. _

The hard thumps of his heart made his chest feel as though it were caving in. This was it, he thought. The world was playing him again - like an old, worn cello in a shabby late-night bar out in God knows where. And at that stool was the old lady working at the pharmacy who refused him of his medication three weeks ago - and those kids who beat the shit out of him that one day during work - and Dr. Meredith. All of them, playing those tattered strings like there was no god damn tomorrow.

  
But he laughed. Oh, he roared. Cackles sputtered, spilled, and spewed from that fucked up clown in the elevator. It squeezed at his lungs, choking him of air and making his face go red. But he _ laughed _.


	2. Prologue Part 2: Did you just -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there you are.

The gentle pluck of that damned cello sent a low rumble through the rusted shower head. It moaned, barely sputtering enough water to coat his bruised skin. It dripped and dribbled onto those mold-scorned grout lines, making his toes curl - almost in disgust, even. But he too was grime built up in these wretched little crevices of Gotham. This is where he festered - in smut and filth - Gotham.

His forehead pressed against the wall, wide bulgy eyes watching as the water sloshed its way down the hungry drain pipe. And oh, that eager mouth gladly swallowed. It groaned and slurped - and Arthur stared.

_ And so I said: “Drain - if you’re so eager to drink all this water, what stops you from having a hefty meal such as myself, too? With that big hole of yours!” _

His eyes fell shut with a wheezed chuckle.

  


_ I’ll have to write that one down. _

* * *

  


Lingering fingers of the cold herself grazed his bare skin, turning it to gooseflesh with every touch. She fingered at his sleeves and collar, begging to get a feel for every inch of his frame. But he remained, staring off into space itself - the space he could never find himself coming out of. Oh, that space of thoughts. Thoughts and thoughts and jokes and thoughts. That space - could it have been his mind? So full of anything and everything - it derived his attention from the physical world almost entirely. 

A cigarette was roughly wedged between his bared yellowish teeth, small droplets of cold water from the tips of his locks finding home upon the shoulders of his ragged nightshirt. The only heat he felt his chilled body receive was that of a small flame - barely lit by an old matchstick he found tucked beneath last week’s newspaper neatly folded on the table. He leaned, touching the flame to the end of his cig before shaking it out. He took a small drag from that stick of lung cancer, letting his mouth fall agape as a tail of smoke spilled past his lips. 

Oh yeah, that joke he wanted to write. He had nearly forgotten  
  
Arthur reached for his journal in the place it always rested - but his hand was left bare.

. . .

_ Did I lose it? _

Letting the cigarette hang from his barely parted lips, he arose from his seat at that worn kitchen table. Perhaps he did misplace it. That’s fine. It’s probably on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Or maybe he set it with his coat on the counter after he got home. But he checked. He checked and looked and peeked and peered and searched around in every place he was able. And yet - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, NOTHING. That space began to turn to a blackhole, draining him of any rationality he had left - and filling him with questions that begged for one answer:

_ Where is it? _

_ If it’s not here, then where? Did I drop it on the way home? _

. . .

** _Go. Go, now - go find it now, GO._ **

The door gave a squeaked cry as it was swung open. Arthur slipped into the hallway, eyes darting here and there and along the floor and towards the stairs and -

  


The blackhole was gone - vanished - popped like a balloon with a pin needle. And the beholder of that needle - was you.

  


“Hey, uh - is this your notebook? I found it by my door -”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys like it so far !! I've never been much of a writer but I'm so happy this story is getting such positive feedback !! <33


	3. Chapter 3: Just call me your baby

_ “Uh - . . . I - . . . Yuh - yeah, that’s -. . . That’s mine. Thank you -” _

_ “Oh, it’s fine. I figured it was yours, you looked pretty eager to find it.” _

_“Ha - hah! Hah, aha - yeah - I - ahahA - AHAHA! AAHHAAHAHAHAHA!”_

His back faced his sleeping mother, a trembling hand squeezing at the shaft of his cock. Repeating, that thought of you in his mind played over and over and over. That lilt in your voice - the uncomfortable gleam in your eyes as he stared for a second too long. The feeling of your skin as he reached for his journal - fingers barely grazing yours. He stroked around the head of his cock, sputtering weak whimpers into his pillow. 

_ So soft - so soft, so soft, so soft. _

He remembered how the locks of your hair perfectly complemented the shape of your face, and the glimmer of your freshly-applied lip gloss that made you look oh, so kissable.

_ “Haha - uhm, well, I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” _   
_  
“Oh - ha - hah! Yeah, thuh - . . . Thanks for my, uh - journal -”_

And how your shirt perfectly squeezed at your breasts and hugged at your waist and the beautiful curve of your hips in those leggings and -

_ Fuck, fuck - shuh - shit! _

  
  
  


His body jerked as he grew closer to that sweet spilling edge, imagining your face there - mouth gaping and tongue begging for his semen.  
  


_ “It’s no biggie, man -” _   
_  
“Arthur! My - . . . Muh - my name is Arthur -”_

  
  
  


_ “. . . Arthur.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter !! I'm not certain if I enjoy it so much so please let me know what you all think !! <33


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